


Christmas With Crowley: Breakdown

by thegreatficmaster



Series: Christmas With Crowley [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Depressed Crowley (Supernatural), M/M, Minor Violence, Reader-Insert, Sad Crowley (Supernatural), Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 13:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20310310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatficmaster/pseuds/thegreatficmaster
Summary: Crowley goes through the pain of having to give up human blood for the second time. But when strange things occur, he flies into a rage and finds the ones he thinks are responsible.





	Christmas With Crowley: Breakdown

** _23rd December 2016_ **

Crowley was aching, his body burning up, desperate for the blood again.

He never should’ve given in.

It was painful enough the first time, but at least he had y/n.

Now, he was laying on the bed, writhing on top of the sheets, his almost completely bare body wet with sweat, dark patches left on the bed.

He couldn’t stop himself from crying, the demon inside him throwing insults at him, bringing up each and every failure in life. 

He was pathetic.

Useless.

Couldn’t even run Hell properly. 

He became Lucifer’s bitch at one point. 

He couldn’t even protect y/n.

No wonder his own mother hated him. 

He was worthless and didn’t deserve to live.

The thoughts kept running through his mind, blocking every single sound out, until he felt the small hands gripping his shoulders and shaking him lightly.

“Crowley! You need to drink. Here”.

Chelsea turned to grab the water, lifting Crowley’s sweat covered head, and tilted the glass, his lips around the rim as he sipped a small amount.

She had no clue how to deal with this, but she just decided she’d leave him for a while, hoping that the blood would flush out of his system, and after that, all she had to deal with was helping him through y/n’s death.

Crowley was left alone in the room, writhing in pain, his vision blurred and his head fuzzy.

Each time he opened his eyes, he had no idea of the time that had passed.

But he was so sure that he was seeing things.

Y/n’s belongings appearing all around the room. 

First it was the picture that used to be on the bedside table.

Then the cute little teddies y/n loved to have around, sat in the chair across the room. 

Little by little, he was sure that these things were there, wondering what the hell was going on.

He clutched his head, his palms digging into his eyes as he tried to block it all out.

The reminders of y/n were just making him even more desperate for the blood, needing to release everything.

His demon eyes appeared, the bloodlust taking over as he jumped off the bed, hobbling to the throne room, clinging to the wall for support.

Chelsea was unaware of his presence, sat by the window, staring at the snowstorm that was raging on outside, just a panel of glass separating her from it.

“You smell good, love”.

She jumped off the windowsill, her hand on her chest, as she turned to face Crowley.

“C-Crowley-w-what’s happened?” she asked, never having seen him like this, his body sweating, his eyes red and wide, a strange smirk on his face.

“I need blood, love. And you smell amazing”.

In a flash, Chelsea was pushed against the wall, Crowley’s body pressing her into it, his nose brushing her neck.

He inhaled deeply, smelling the blood that was flowing just below her skin.

It would be so easy to just cut her, watch his treasured blood flow out, and into his mouth.

“Please-don’t do this, Crowley”, she begged, tears streaming down her face.

“Think-think of y/n. He wouldn’t want this. Please, just let me go”.

Her words weren’t getting through to him, but his eyes were suddenly drawn to the TV, which switched on by itself and began playing Charmed.

Crowley knew now that he wasn’t just seeing things.

He clenched his jaw, his clouded mind conjuring up different ideas, settling on the thought that this was most likely them.

He disappeared, Chelsea collapsing onto the floor, sobbing, as she wished y/n was still here.

“What the fuck?!” Dean exclaimed, his back hitting the wall, Sam and Mary now on the ground.

“I know it was you”, he rasped out, his voice hoarse and broken.

“What was?” Dean gritted out, trying, but failing to move.

“Playing secret Santa. What-did you send the flying rat to do it? Want to torture me some more? Wasn’t enough you got me addicted, or that it was your bloody fault y/n died, you weak, pathetic excuse of a man”, he spat, licking his lips, the sweat dripping down his face.

“Y-you know I never meant for that to happen”, Dean protested, still hating himself for being so weak and not saving y/n from Amara.

Crowley simply pushed Dean further into the wall, seeing it crack around Dean’s body.

Suddenly, Crowley was thrown back, Castiel appearing and placing the handcuffs on the demon.

The angel snapped his fingers, Chelsea appearing, and rushing over to Crowley.

“Are you ok?”

The demon looked at all the worried faces and broke down, sobbing for y/n. 

Sobbing for being a failure.

Sobbing for not being able to get over this.

Castiel walked up to Chelsea, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry. We will help him. And you”.

She nodded, watching as Dean and Sam carried Crowley to the dungeon, hoping he’d sober up in there.

But she still couldn’t help but wonder who was playing their little game of secret Santa.

If it wasn’t Cas and the Winchesters, who the hell was it?


End file.
